e could not restrain these thoughts, it never for a
moment occurred to her to take Frank's offer in earnest. Though she
was a grown woman, he was still a boy. He would have to see the world
before he settled in it, and would change his mind about woman half a
score of times before he married. Then, too, though she did not like
the Lady Arabella, she felt that she owed something, if not to her
kindness, at least to her forbearance; and she knew, felt inwardly
certain, that she would be doing wrong, that the world would say
she was doing wrong, that her uncle would think her wrong, if she
endeavoured to take advantage of what had passed.

She had not for an instant doubted; not for a moment had she
contemplated it as possible that she should ever become Mrs Gresham
because Frank had offered to make her so; but, nevertheless, she
could not help thinking of what had occurred--of thinking of it, most
probably much more than Frank did himself.

A day or two afterwards, on the evening before Frank's birthday, she
was alone with her uncle, walking in the garden behind their house,
and she then essayed to question him, with the object of learning if
she were fitted by her birth to be the wife of such a one as Frank
Gresham. They were in the habit of walking there together when he
happened to be at home of a summer's evening. This was not often the
case, for his hours of labour extended much beyond those usual to the
upper working world, the hours, namely, between breakfast and dinner;
but those minutes that they did thus pass together, the doctor
regarded as perhaps the pleasantest of his life.

"Uncle," said she, after a while, "what do you think of this marriage
of Miss Gresham's?"

"Well, Minnie"--such was his name of endearment for her--"I can't say
I have thought much about it, and I don't suppose anybody else has
either."

"She must think about it, of course; and so must he, I suppose."

"I'm not so sure of that. Some folks would never get married if they
had to trouble themselves with thinking about it."

"I suppose that's why you never got married, uncle?"

"Either that, or thinking of it too much. One is as bad as the
other."

Mary had not contrived to get at all near her point as yet; so she
had to draw off, and after a while begin again.

"Well, I have been thinking about it, at any rate, uncle."

"That's very good of you; that will save me the trouble; and perhaps
save Miss Gresham too. If you have thou